


Kaer Mor Inn

by peaktotheocean



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brief mention of an accident and how Ciri came to be with Geralt, Christmas Fluff, Cooking Lessons, Getting Together, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, M/M, mentions of grief/mourning, some anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:46:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27867841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peaktotheocean/pseuds/peaktotheocean
Summary: Jaskier is more than fine with spending the last two weeks of December in the empty Kaer Mor Inn. Other associates in the firm have families and holiday plans. He just has his portable piano keyboard and now a mountain of paperwork to tackle. All he needs to do is finish this last job, get his end of year bonus, and then he’ll be done with his hated corporate career for good. Except Jaskier can’t get his mind off of the handsome quiet inn owner who dotes upon his young goddaughter...
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 40
Kudos: 382





	Kaer Mor Inn

**Author's Note:**

> this is both the product of watching too many hallmark movies and also realizing that I’m just making Christmas Eve borscht for myself this year because of *gestures to everything*

"Breakfast gets set out at six," his host grumbled, bringing Jaskier back to the present.

Right. 

Breakfast. 

Because Jaskier was spending the last two weeks of December by himself in a bed & breakfast. 

He was currently standing in the front hall of the converted mansion. It wasn't too large but he imagined most bed & breakfasts in smaller towns like this one were more on the cozy side. Hardwood floors were worn but still shiny and well-cared for. He tilted his head up to see the shiny metal face of a tall case clock that had been stopped, presumably because no one was going to be in the building besides Jaskier.

His host cleared his throat, drawing Jaskier's attention back to him.

Mr. Rivia. Very tall, with long white hair that was pulled back which, in Jaskier's opinion, only drew attention to his strong chin. He was dressed in a long black peacoat which was a stark contrast to the fluffy blue down jacket hovering somewhere around his knees.

"Thank you," Jaskier said brightly as he could, winking at the little girl hiding behind Mr. Rivia's legs. "I hope there's no dress code as that's quite early for me. Might have to come down wrapped in a big quilt." 

The little girl giggled even more as Mr. Rivia glared at him. 

"There's not." He sighed and tried again. "You're our only guest. Tomorrow is the only day you get meals. After that you'll have full reign of the kitchen. The grocery store isn't far but," it looked as though it pained the man to say this, "If you give me a list, we can arrange a time for me to deliver some food."

Mr. Rivia was too busy watching his giggly daughter, a heavy hand resting on her hand to pay attention to Jaskier's response but still. "Thank you," Jaskier told him, earnestly as he could muster. "I remember the terms, honest. It's no problem." He hurried after Mr. Rivia who had already started walking away from Jaskier, further into the building.

It had all been laid out for him in the job contract. Two weeks at the Kaer Mor Inn which was closed during that time interval. The staff, mostly family, was off for the holidays so in exchange, Jaskier was granted permission to use the kitchen. 

Not a full restaurant kitchen, thank goodness, because Jaskier wouldn't know what to do with that. But a small kitchen that was more appropriate in size for a renovated bed & breakfast. The large table seemed more fit for Jaskier's purposes than the small office, the use of which he was also granted. 

It was all rather last minute but with the fiscal year coming to a close and someone at Jaskier's firm owing Kaer Mor Inn a favor well, here he was, ready and willing to dig through their last few years of reports and make sure there wouldn't be issues for the upcoming tax season. 

There were a lot of documents to go over and if he could spread them out, the better luck he'd have in going over the expenses. Not to mention, when he was off the clock, the table was a good size for him to set up his miniature travel keyboard so he could get some composing done.

"If you find you're missing any paperwork or need anything, you have the number."

"Right, of course. Thank you, Mr. Rivia," Jaskier said, smiling at both his host and the little girl. 

She smiled back at him and Jaskier felt his heart melt. He looked up and saw Mr. Rivia watching him with a strange expression on his face.

"Geralt," he said gruffly before turning around and walking out the kitchen door. 

"Right, Geralt. Thank...you."

Jaskier watched him go, willing his heart not to clench at the sight of the little girl reaching her small hand into Geralt's large one as they heading down the hallway.

  
••••••••••••••

Jaskier wanted to know what Geralt's definition of "not far" was because he had gotten ten minutes down the road from the bed & breakfast before realizing that the only grocery store on the town's main street was a general store that sold over-priced essentials.

Definitely not where Jaskier could go to buy two weeks worth of groceries. Even if he wanted to take trip after trip to the small store, it would be far too expensive. 

"Of course, there’s a chain market further out of town," he grumbled, thumbing closed the map application on his phone. He hadn't wanted to bother Mr. Rivia with his groceries. Well, Geralt. But there were only so many things Jaskier could expense and a taxi to the grocery store and back wasn't one of them. If this town even had taxis considering the cab driver from the airport had just groaned when Jaskier had given her the address.

"You look very lost."

"And new."

Jaskier spun around to see two women giving him an eyeful. He promptly felt as though he was being appraised though, if he was being honest, he wouldn't have minded. Was everyone in this town devastatingly handsome?  
  
"Ah, not lost, I swear." He held up his phone. "Just wistful thinking about my proximity to the market."

"Oh, yes, that's a drive for sure. The big store popped up a few years back. It's frustrating but it's got Yennnefer's oat milk so hard to complain." The one women bumped her hip against her partner's and she rolled her eyes. "I'm Triss."

"Jaskier." He nodded at both of them. Yennefer and Triss. He could remember that, surely. It was part of his charm when he was sent on accounting trips. Jaskier was very personable, practically built to easily recall the names of everyone in a small town. "I’m staying over at the Kaer Mor Inn."

The women looked at each other and took a step closer, separating to flank him. Jaskier felt like proper prey. Thankfully, they seemed to be interested with why he was there as opposed to the who he actually was. 

"I thought Geralt said he couldn't take any guests the last two weeks of December this week." 

"Yes, something about letting Cirilla have a quiet holiday."

"Oh, what an angel she is."

"She only just came to live with him a few months ago. Poor girl. She's his goddaughter, you see."

"Of course," said Jaskier, who didn't see at all but was pleased that the ping-pong match of dialogue had ended. He hadn't even been told the little girl's name when he had met with Mr. Rivia. 

Cirilla. 

A lovely name.

Although his curiosity was burning, he could see Geralt coming up the street behind them. The man already seemed to dislike Jaskier's presence during their holiday and if he was having the rough go of it with a child, there was no need to increase his ire towards a temporary accountant. "Ah, well he didn’t quite have a choice when it came to me, I’m sorry to say."

One woman, Triss, snapped her fingers. "You’re the tax man. Vesemir mentioned you were coming to stay."

"What a terrible superhero name," Jaskier joked and then immediately wanted to take it back. He wondered who Vesemir was. How many other people in this town knew about Jaskier’s job?

"My father giving out secrets again?" Geralt asked gruffly and the two ladies turned around to smile at him. They both handled the intrusion with grace and since Geralt offered them a crooked smile, Jaskier was confident enough to assume that they were all friends. He had nothing to worry about. He didn't want Geralt to think he was gossiping about him or Cirilla.

Still. Vesemir. Father. Got it. Jaskier made another mental note.

"Geralt! We were just meeting your tax man!" Jaskier gave a short, awkward wave and regretted it immediately.

"Not mine," Geralt grumbled towards them. The women looked at one another knowingly so at least Jaskier could understand that they were used to his moods. It wasn't just Jaskier that pulled a grouchy reaction out the inn manager. In a way, that was comforting. "He's here for the inn."

"I actually won't be any kind of tax man after the new year," Jaskier interjected with. "Please don’t tell the boss," he added to Geralt. Not that he supposed it mattered. Or it wouldn't. 

"What do you mean?" Triss asked excitedly. There were three sets of eyes on him at that point and Jaskier couldn't help himself. He was vibrating with the chance to actually tell someone.

"Ah well, I’ve been composing here and there, you know and--"

"Composing?" Geralt interrupted to ask.

"Music?" Yennefer guessed.

"Yes!" Jaskier said happily. "For commercials and short films mostly. But I finally have enough contacts and credits under my belt to do composing full time," Jaskier told them excitedly. He couldn’t help it. Just him and his piano and whatever inspiration was on the tiny screens from roughly cut videos he was sent.

"Hollywood?" Geralt asked, as though he was already prepared to scoff when Jaskier answered in the affirmative. 

Instead, Jaskier’s nose wrinkled. "I hope not. That's the best part about composing. I can do it from anywhere. I'm ready to be done with numbers for a bit. They're rubbish, if I'm honest," he said like he was sharing a secret. 

"So this is your last job?" Yennefer asked. "We'll have to celebrate!"

"Yes! One last job. Although, I think that rather makes me sound like a thief in a heist film who's come out of retirement." Geralt gave him a strange look and Jaskier hastened to correct himself. "Not that I'm a thief. Just a boring tax man here."

"Music man," Geralt reminded him gruffly as Yennefer and Triss laughed at him, tension broken.

"We'll stop by and make sure we take you out for a drink before you leave," Triss promised him. She interlocked her arms with Yennefer's and the two women strolled off down the street, leaving Jaskier with Geralt. 

"Text me your grocery list," Geralt told him gruffly, having returned to looking at the sidewalk. That was the only thing Jaskier got before Geralt walked away, leaving him to watch with his head cocked to the side, wondering what was in the man's mind.

••••••••••••••

  
Distracting himself with tax paperwork wasn't as easy as Jaskier had hoped. Especially not when Geralt had texted him the following morning in order to find out when to bring his groceries. The timing worked out as Jaskier already had a handful of official papers for him to look at but still. He wondered if Geralt would show up in the same sharp-looking peacoat again.

He did. 

Not that Jaskier had much of a warning.

He was mostly grateful he had pushed his piano keyboard to one side of the table and nearly had his nose touching the paperwork when a knock came on the kitchen doorpost.

Jaskier startled, dropping his pencil on the table. He heard Cirilla's giggle before he saw her. Geralt took up most of the doorway and his smirk had Jaskier's cheeks warming.

"You sent a message saying that you had paperwork for me to sign?" Geralt asked, breaking the moment.

"Yes, yes!" Jaskier got up out of the chair, just short of knocking it over. He steadied it and gestured for Geralt to sit. "A few things to sign and some others to clarify. Won't take long, I promise. I'm sure there's more but I figured since you were going to be here, might as well get a head start."

Geralt hummed, in agreement, Jaskier hoped. He used one hand to give another flourish to the kitchen table where he had everything set out in mostly neat piles. 

Mostly. 

Geralt first set two large paper bags on the kitchen island countertop, Cirilla close at his heels. Jaskier wiggled his fingers at the little girl who shyly wiggled her own back at him.

"I've brought you the food that you asked for."

Jaskier could see that. The leftovers from yesterday and an expired protein bar weren't lasting him nearly as long as he had hoped. "Thank you so much. Truly, I wouldn't have minded ordering online. You don't have to go through the trouble."

"You can't..." Geralt gathered his words and Jaskier waited. "It's hard to get grocery orders online here. It's a small town."

"Ah, of course."

"I already do it for my father and brothers on occasion. It's no trouble." Geralt took his seat at the table, leaving the bags free for Jaskier to snoop into. "It was in the agreement."

Right. Of course. The agreement. "I do appreciate it regardless. I'm sure some of my selections might have seemed a little strange."

Geralt narrowed his eyes. "They were a joke?" 

Jaskier was quick to intercede. "No, not a joke. I promise. Just. Christmas traditions, you know? I appreciate that you were able to find beets and some of the spices. Anything you don't think you can use once I leave, I'll happily pay for and take with me."

He reached into the first bag and pulled out two vegetable stock cartons as well as a thin plastic bag full of beets. "My babcia said always pick your own produce but I'm sure your keen eyes were up to the daunting task."

Cirilla watched carefully as Jaskier took his time finding the locations of various kitchen tools, not wanting to bother Geralt by asking. He started chopping up beets one by one and set them in a large bowl for fermenting. "What do you think, darling?" He asked her. "On top of the fridge? We don't want them to be disturbed for a few days. That's the secret." She sat up a bit and nodded, clearly excited to be included. 

Jaskier kept talking, well-aware that even if Cirilla wasn't responding, he certainly had her attention.

"I was going to cheat," he told her like it was a secret, leaning in, "but I didn't know if the store would have any mushroom tortellini and I didn't want to bother Geralt too much so we're going old school this year." He liberally floured the surface of the countertop with such embellishment that he had Cirilla giggling again in no time.

She looked up at him curiously and Jaskier watched Geralt but the man ignored him, going through each paper as had been asked of him. 

"See, I've already got the _kwas_ set now." He nodded towards the top of the fridge. "But of course the _barszcz wigilijny_ requires _uszka_. And--"

Cirilla's eyes had grown wide at the sound of Polish. " _Barszcz wigilijny_!" She said excitedly, coming alive even as she stumbled over the hefty syllables. She bounced on her toes, hands clutched on edge of the island counter, attempting to raise herself up to see the ingredients better. 

Jaskier blinked at her and now when he looked over at Geralt, he could see they had his full attention. He looked at Cirilla as though he was about to cry. Like he was holding his breath to see what else she'd do. 

"If Geralt says it's all right," Jaskier said slowly, "I can bring an extra chair over and you can help me make them for dinner, all right?" Geralt kept eye contact with him and ever so slowly nodded. He got the chair himself, placing it right next to the counter and lifting Cirilla onto it as she patted his chest in a thank you.

"Watch carefully, Cirilla."

"Ciri!" She squeaked and settled back into herself. She clumsily pushed her ashen hair behind her ears, eyes bright as Jaskier hadn't seen before, and smiled at him. "I am..." she said slowly, hesitating a little bit over the English words and pressed one tiny hand over her heart. "Call me Ciri."

He smiled back and leaned down so they were at the same level. " _Możesz mówić do mnie Julek_ ," he whispered to her. She beamed at him and for all he was worth, Jaskier tried not to look at Geralt. Instead, he pushed himself off the counter and back into standing straight.

"I haven't made these in a while," he told Ciri conversationally. "It's why I asked Geralt over there for extra ingredients. I'm going to do a trial run of _uszka,_ the mushroom dumplings, before Christmas Eve."

Shining eyes watched him bring his dough together, letting the bits of flour incorporate back into the large ball before he covered it. He used too many small bowls to set out ingredients for the filling but it was worth it once the mushrooms and onions were cooked and Ciri was able to dump in the breadcrumbs, parsley, and spices by herself, proud smile on her face. 

Sure, Jaskier had to pick out a few egg shells but the laughter made it worth it.

Jaskier talked all the way through the process, slowly so Ciri could understand the English and also just in case she wanted to interject. She didn't, at least, not until he spoke again about his grandparents, explaining the different kinds of folds his grandmother had taught him.

"I'm terrible at making of these so you're going to have to help me," Jaskier told her honestly. He was sure they'd be a disaster regardless. He hadn't folded the dumplings in a traditional style in years. The last time he had even made them like this, he had gone for a pierogi style fold. At least, they hadn't fallen apart on him then. Still, with Ciri watching him, Jaskier wanted to be better, to do right by her and the traditions.

"Does your mama make them too?" Ciri's voice was soft and slow as she focused on the English words before getting them out. 

“Ah, I’m like you, little one.” Jaskier used a freshly washed and dried hand to smooth back her hair and gave her a sad smile. “No mama.”

Ciri sat with that for a little bit, watching as Jaskier washed and dried his hands yet again and went searching for a rolling pin.

“What about your...” Ciri scrunched up here face thinking about the word she was looking for. “Your Geralt?”

“Oh, darling. I don’t have a Geralt either. You’re very lucky to have a Geralt of your very own,” Jaskier told her sincerely. Again, he didn't dare look over at the man himself. It was his new goal to, if possible, never again make eye contact with the strong, silent, and handsome man with the shy adopted daughter who were both just trying their best.

The rest of the session passed in relative silence, the one exception being Ciri's excited gasp when she tasted the final product. Jaskier graciously chose to ignore that Geralt had stopped looking at the paperwork at that point. Jaskier gestured for him to come over to the counter in order to make him a little plate. 

" _Uszka_ ," Ciri told him seriously.

" _Uszka_ ," Geralt repeated back to her, just as gravely, with almost perfect pronunciation. Both child and guardian smiled at one another and Jaskier couldn't keep his eyes off of the scene.

By the time a suitable amount of _uszka_ were test-tasted and Jaskier had cleaned up most of the kitchen, Ciri had been hoisted into Geralt's arms. She was dozing off after giving a sleepy " _Dziękuję, Julek_ " that had Jaskier holding back a few tears.

"Thank you," Geralt said stiffly. If Jaskier had ever really been scared of the man, he couldn't remember why. Not with his shirt covered in fat drippings and his goddaughter snoring against his shoulder as he held her close. "English is difficult for her. Words are hard for her."

 _For both of you_ , Jaskier didn't say. He just waited patiently.

"I don't speak Polish. My father does, a little. Vesemir. But her parents only passed away a few months back and..."

Jaskier didn't want to hear Geralt say anymore. As honored as he felt to finally be getting more of the man's words, these were painful enough. Jaskier could infer. He didn't need Geralt to drag the story out of his heart as an explanation.

"It's my pleasure. She's a lovely girl. You're doing a great job with her," he said sincerely. Whether or not Geralt believed him, Jaskier couldn't say, but the gentle giant's head dipped and the compliment at least settled into the target with perfect aim. 

"I'm happy to..." Jaskier let his sentence trail off when it became obvious Geralt wasn't entirely listening. He seemed deep in thought and Jaskier leaned against the kitchen island, content to wait. He could be patient for the right reasons.

"I. She liked helping you," Geralt started. "Perhaps if I get more ingredients, you can teach us?" He asked hopefully. "There are other Christmas traditions, I'm sure. I'd like to do them for her. And my father."

"Of course," Jaskier breathed, not knowing quite how to follow up. But he didn't need to. Geralt just hummed, gave a sharp nod, and left, Ciri still asleep in his arms. Leaving Jaskier in the kitchen with a half eaten plate of uszka wondering what had just happened. 

  
••••••••••••••

  
“Julek!” Ciri grabbed his hand, ignoring Geralt’s attempts to stop her, and dragged Jaskier through a cozy little front hall and into a kitchen with a small four-seat table.

An older gentleman with shorter white hair sat at the table and listened attentively to Ciri’s introduction which was a mash-up of English and Polish.

He raised at an eyebrow at Jaskier. “You're the one who wanted to cheat with store-bought dumplings? For _Wigilia_? Christmas Eve?"

Jaskier gasped at the accusation, hand on his chest. The old man winked and him and tilted his head towards Ciri who was watching them both with glee. "I would never! Vesemir, I presume?"

"Aye, lad. Come sit. Let's talk plans."

Geralt leaned against the counter to watch the scene. He hated going to the grocery store during the holidays but Ciri liked it. Not to mention Ciri enjoyed this. So he’d do it without complaint.

"What else do you need? Ham or something?" Geralt thought back to previous Christmases once he finally came to live with Vesemir.

"No meat," Jaskier and Vesemir said at the same time. 

"Fish, yes, for Christmas Eve. I'll write you a list, boy. Ciri can help." Vesemir drew the pad of paper closer to him and Ciri eagerly climbed up onto his lap. "You were only doing the borscht?" He asked Jaskier.

"Ah, well. When it's just me, I don't see the need to go through all the trouble," Jaskier said, as delicately as he could manage, trying not to call attention to the fact that he was used to spending his Christmas Eves alone. And his Christmases. Most holidays, in fact. 

"Well, you've got us this year. Let's see where we match up in traditions for Ciri, shall we?" Vesemir put pen to paper and Jaskier sighed, grateful not to talk about his pathetic lonely holidays. Vesemir was right. He had company this year. He seemed at least somewhat wanted and he wouldn't mess that up.

More often or not, their eyes met over Ciri's head, both of them using their adult conversation to coax Ciri into revealing more of what her parents used to make for the holidays. 

By the end of the night, Jaskier had been fed again, Ciri was asleep against his side in the kitchen chair next to him, and Geralt was squinting at a grocery list that took up both sides of the paper.

"Good thing we got that chain store." Vesemir smirked at his son who actually growled at him. Jaskier laughed out loud at the sound and didn't even stop when they both looked over at him. 

  
••••••••••••••

Christmas Eve came faster than he had anticipated. Before he knew it, Jaskier was carefully balancing his contribution of the _barszcz wigilijny_ base as he walked up to the household.

“You must be the music man!” A loud voice came from the open door at the end of the path.

As Jaskier came closer he saw Geralt trying to full-body wrestle two men out of the way. They were just as large as Geralt himself, not one could fit in the doorway if another also was attempting the feat.

“Brothers,” Geralt grumped. “Using their weeks off from the inn to cause all sorts of trouble.”

“I’m Eskel, that’s Lambert.” The taller one nodded at Jaskier and reached for the ceramic bowl cradled in his arms. “I’m under strict instruction from Vesemir to handle that with care.” 

“Oh, all right.” Jaskier watched as the one thing he had to distract himself was with being taken away from him. “Where is Vesemir?”

“Last I saw, he was in the kitchen yelling at the fish,” Lambert told him, rather unhelpfully.

Geralt’s voice, quiet, came to him next and Jaskier turned to smile at him. The man seemed so off-kilter just by the addition of his brothers to their dynamic but still, he had a grin on his face that Jaskier hadn’t seen before. “Let me take your jacket and you can join him over the stove.”

“Perfect.” Jaskier didn’t try to hide his relief. He was already nervous and giving his hands something to do would be a tremendous help. 

Vesemir unfortunately refused to put him to work, insisting that he was a guest. Instead, he seated Jaskier on a high stool at the counter next to Ciri who was looking at the plate of _kolaczki_ with hearts in her eyes. 

"Not until after dinner, young lady." Vesemir winked at Jaskier before turning back around to where he was stirring two pots at once. 

Jaskier took the hint and nudged Ciri's shoulder. Moving quietly as he could, he slipped two of the jam-topped cookies out from the wax paper covering them. Ciri's legs swung back and forth even faster as though the sugar was already in her system. Jaskier ate his in one bite only realizing it was a mistake when Ciri mimicked him.

No harm done minus a few years off of Jaskier's life due to the fear as he waited a whole two seconds for her to chew and swallow. He only breathed easy once she had taken a sip of the water in front of her.

"Causing trouble?" Vesemir asked the two of them. "Geralt said Julek is a musician, Ciri. Why don't you take him to see the piano."

Ciri obediently slid off of the stool and held a little sticky hand out to Jaskier who took it without question. They were only going to the next room but he supposed she was used to holding hands everywhere. One small girl with four large men unused to having children around. It was a sitcom pitch waiting to be greenlit. 

Next to a large Christmas tree, that had to be the height of Geralt, was an old upright piano. He'd place it around 80 years old at least but well-taken of. He ran his fingers over the keys, pressing down on a few of them. Someone in the family, Jaskier would guess Vesemir, had been keeping it in tune.

"Oh, she's gorgeous," Jaskier murmured. "How lovely."

“Ciri’s been taking lessons.” Geralt's voice came back behind them. He was leaning against the wall, looking exceptionally soft in a navy blue sweater and dark jeans.

“You play too?" Ciri looked up at Jaskier.

“I do.” Jaskier took a seat on the bench and Ciri clambered up to sit next to him. There was a children's piano book of Christmas carols and he set it to the first page it opened too. "A duet, darling?" He asked Ciri who nodded excitedly, fingers already on the keys. 

Perhaps Jaskier was biased but Ciri was certainly talented. It wasn't long before the brothers gathered around the piano with them, trying to trip up the two musicians by singing along at a slower tempo than the holiday song required. And then when that didn't work, they tried to sing faster. 

By the time Vesemir came out from the kitchen to call them all in for dinner, the five of them were bent over with laughter. Jaskier and Geralt reached out at the same time to stop Ciri from falling off of the piano bench. Jaskier quickly withdrew his hand as Geralt steadied her quickly but he couldn't stop the smile from coming over his face. 

Jaskier closed his eyes to take a breath and it felt like the night passed in a blur of laughter, home-cooked food, and sparkling Christmas decorations. 

If he thought hard, he could pretend he was Ciri's age again and the bits of Polish coming from Vesemir and Ciri to scold Lambert were actually his own grandfather and perhaps one of his cousins. It was a good night, perhaps even great, but he just hadn't expected it to be as emotional as it was. He hadn't spend the holidays with anyone other than a friend or casual lover in quite some time.

"You look exhausted,” Geralt’s concerned whisper had Jaskier’s heart aching. 

They had cleared the table and Ciri was already in bed, her uncles already dreading how early she'd wake tomorrow in order to open presents. 

"A lot of paperwork," Jaskier admitted. "There's a reason I'm here for two weeks." He backtracked quickly, "Not that I don't enjoy this. It's a welcome respite, trust me," he said earnestly, even meeting Geralt's concerned gaze for more than a few seconds.

"Come on, I'll walk you back to the inn."

And that was his time up then. Jaskier nodded his thanks as Geralt handed him his coat and he wished he could say anything but most of the walk back was spent in silence. 

"Your family is lovely," Jaskier said finally, once they had reached the Kaer Mor Inn.

"They're hectic."

"That's the best kind of lovely," Jaskier said confidently. "Ciri seemed to have a good time at any rate. I think she was teaching Vesemir about Polish verb conjugation which-- to that-- I say best of luck."

"She had fun. Thank you." Geralt's volume dropped. "I was...worried."

"You're doing your best," Jaskier assured him again, unlocking the side door to the inn and turning to look at Geralt. "It won't always be like that, sure. Perhaps as early as tomorrow, she'll be upset. That's all right. Things take time. You've given her a home full of love and stomach-hurting laughter." He pressed his hand to his aching abdomen muscles to demonstrate. 

Geralt chuckled at that. "Have a good night, Jaskier."

"Thank...you." But Geralt was already gone. Again.

  
••••••••••••••

A grief-stricken child wasn't the only one whose mood could turn on a dime during an emotional holiday season.

Radio silence from Geralt for a few days had Jaskier's stomach churning. 

He had sent him a text again to thank him for the lovely Christmas Eve and wish him a Merry Christmas but there hadn't been a response.

Perhaps Jaskier had overstepped. He was only a tax man. He was just there to help with the paperwork and compare recipes with Vesemir. There was no reason for Geralt to come by again or answer his texts unless it was an emergency.

Jaskier had more than enough food to last him until the end of the job and there weren't yet papers for Geralt to look at. There would be eventually but Jaskier's anxiety was now hoping that he could put that off for as soon as possible. 

Turns out that wasn't in the cards. Just as he had the previous week, Geralt showed up at the doorway to the kitchen, this time when Jaskier's hands were on the piano keyboard. He startled again, this time the piano speakers letting out something quite akin to what his stomach was feeling.

"Geralt."

"Hi," Geralt said shortly, eyeing the piano.

"It's just a break. I promise I'm working the required hours. It's not. It's not on your dime," Jaskier rambled nervously. Why couldn't Geralt had come in like he had before, when Jaskier was sorting through piles. Or better yet, not come in at all.

Geralt's eyes widened. "No, that's not-- I'm not looking to get you in trouble."

"Ah, really?" Jaskier asked hopefully, perhaps too hopefully. He couldn't help it. 

"Yes, of course."

Jaskier took a breath and went for it. What did it matter? He was going to be gone in a few days anyway. Perhaps he could learn something about his behavior, where he went wrong, and apply it to future situations. The worst that could happen is that he embarrassed himself and replayed it over and over again in his head for all eternity. 

"I just. I haven't seen you and--

"I didn't want to bother you," Geralt interrupted him before he could twist himself further into a knot. "You're here to do a job," Geralt told Jaskier but mostly the ground. Not meeting Jaskier's eyes just gave him the courage to keep talking.

"Right. My job,” Jaskier laughed. “I thought I overstepped. On Christmas Eve, I mean.”

"No! No-- I thought...I thought we did," Geralt admitted. 

The tension in Jaskier's shoulders eased and he leaned back in his chair, taking his first deep breath in quite some time. This time Geralt was the one who kept talking.

“I thought maybe you’d rather be out with Triss and Yennefer too.” Geralt shrugged and Jaskier looked at him in wonder. He hadn't even seen the two women since their first meeting. And he reckoned there was a good reason for that.

"I think they know that any leisure time I have here is already reserved," Jaskier said, quiet and hopeful. Geralt's eyes shot up and met his, neither of them making a sound.

"New Years Eve," Geralt said suddenly. "We want you there. Please. Ciri wants to make some kind of doughnuts." He shook his head and if Jaskier had to guess, Geralt had almost tried to pronounce _pączki_ but thought better of it.

Jaskier didn't dare breathe out though, not when he saw Geralt still thinking.

"I want you there," Geralt said finally after a long silence. 

“I’ll be there,” Jaskier promised without missing a beat.

  
••••••••••••••

So Jaskier spent the last night of the job, his tax career, and at the Kaer Mor Inn, frying up doughnuts while Geralt tried his best to wrangle Ciri away from the hot oil. No Vesemir or brothers, just the three of them and a metric ton of powdered sugar over near every surface in the kitchen.

"Thank you for helping make the _pączki_ , Julek," Ciri recited after Geralt reminded her. 

They had all eaten too many doughnuts but Jaskier couldn't bring himself to care. Even if the front of his shirt was speckled with white and he felt sticky no matter how many times he washed his hands. 

Sitting on Geralt's large couch, squished between the man himself and the armrest, with Ciri managing to sprawl out across both of them at once, Jaskier sighed. He couldn't remember being this exhausted with happiness twice in one week. Not in a long time. 

He dozed off slowly but even as he felt sleep coming on, Jaskier didn't get up to go back to the empty bed & breakfast. Jaskier let himself be selfish this time, to fall asleep with his head on Geralt's shoulder and holding Ciri. Whether it was imagined or real, a large hand running through his hair was a welcomed action. 

  
••••••••••••••

  
Jaskier clutched the key in his hand. It was cold when he picked it up but that had been a near half hour ago. It was warmed against his palm and if he dared unclench his fingers to look, he was sure that the imprint of the key would be on his skin. 

All he had to do was hand it back to Geralt.

Geralt, who was waiting very patiently outside the inn because he had offered to load Jaskier's bag into the taxi when it arrived. And instead of stopping him, Jaskier had just watched, mute, as Geralt hoisted his case over his shoulder and carried it outside. Leaving just Jaskier alone in the inn with just his backpack. And the key.

It was that easy.

Just a handoff.

One man handing another man a key.

Then he got back in the backseat of the taxicab and drove away and started the next phase of his life.

Or.

"You could stay here," a voice said behind him, quickly, as though he couldn't get it out fast enough.

Jaskier turned around and saw Geralt, his bulk blocking most of the front door. His face was flushed as though there was a strong wind in the three meter walk from the inn to the street and Jaskier blinked at him. He felt the key drop out of his hand and clatter against the tile floor.

"What?" Jaskier asked, barely a whisper.

Geralt took a step closer. "You...said you could compose anywhere, right?" He asked shyly.

"I could," Jaskier cleared his throat and then said, stronger, "I could." He nodded and Geralt came closer again. He leaned down in front of Jaskier, causing him to catch his breath. He picked up the key from where it had fallen. 

When he stood up again, Jaskier had a smile on his face, wide and too excited to be bashful of any sort. Geralt smiled back and dropped the key in the front pocket of Jaskier's flannel buttondown and used the same pocket to tug Jaskier closer. 

"I promise to do your taxes every year," Jaskier jested, putting his arms around Geralt's waist.

Geralt looked horrified at the prospect. "That’s not why I want you to stay." His voice was urgent and Jaskier reached up a hand to push an errant strand of hair behind Geralt's ear. His expression, if possible got even more besotted. 

"I know, I was just joking,” Jaskier promised, soothing him. He let his eyelids flutter closed as Geralt pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"You said you hated numbers. I wouldn’t ask you to," Geralt's voice was so quiet and firm that Jaskier wagered Geralt would go through incredible lengths to keep numbers from coming close to him ever again.

Jaskier wracked his brain trying to think of when on Earth he would have told Geralt he hated numbers. He tried to be somewhat professional although, he supposed that was truly out the window on this particular job. 

He closed his eyes and pictured Geralt on the street. With Yennefer and Triss next to them. Barely two weeks but it seemed like a lifetime ago. In a way, it was. He opened his eyes to Geralt's concerned expression and remembered he hadn't yet responded. 

"Geralt, it’s a love language thing." Feeling daring, he kissed Geralt's nose and pulled back again, pleased with himself and the dumbfound expression on the other man's face. "I’m happy doing taxes for you so your inn doesn’t go through this mess again," Jaskier said sweetly. 

"I’ll hire someone," Geralt swore.

"You will not!" Jaskier said indignantly. He made as though he was set to move which they both realized was a lie. Not when Geralt's arms were tight around his waist. "What a waste when I’m right here!"

Geralt groaned but he was smiling and Jaskier was smiling back at him and they were warm in each others arms. So instead of arguing further, Geralt leaned forward to kiss him. 

  
••••••••  
Epilogue [ _a few weeks later_ ]  
••••••••

  
Jaskier was greeted by Ciri the moment he padded out of Geralt's room, covering his yawn with a single hand. She raised her arms and he obliged, lifting her up as he had done a many times now, knowing she wanted a ride down to the kitchen.

“Now you have a Geralt too,” Ciri murmured against Jaskier’s shoulder. He felt his knees want to wobble but Geralt was suddenly there behind him, supporting him, strong arm around his waist, and looking softly at the two of them.

He kissed the top of Ciri's head and then Jaskier's before pulling them close so he could gather them both in a tight hug. 

**Author's Note:**

> Możesz mówić do mnie Julek: You can call me Julek  
> Dziękuję, Julek: Thank you Julek
> 
> if anyone knows where I can order gluten free mushroom dumplings, please let me know because I would like to cheat this year


End file.
